Easier Said Than Done: 40 Scenes
by linilya elf
Summary: I decided to do something similar to a challenge I found. This is 40 scenes from Legolas's life, in nonsequential order. Sometimes, relationships aren't easily established and maintained. UPDATED: NEW - CHAPTER 8!
1. Disagreements with the Enemy

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR. I am a poor college student. No suing, please.

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Chapter 1: Disagreements with the Enemy

"I can ride."

"You will not follow," he insisted, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"It is my home."

A brief look of pain flashed across his features as he glared sharply at her, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "I have made my decision."

"Since when is it your decision to make, my lord?" she spat, arching her brows. "I have traveled alone between Imladris and Lothlorien for years, and now, all of a sudden, it is far too dangerous for me to even journey past the city gates without an escort?"

"This is not Lothlorien nor is it Imladris. There are many perils lurking in this wood, far more dangerous than you could ever comprehend. It is not safe for you here."

"Then why did you bring me here?"

"You married me!" he responded angrily. "Or was that not the agreement?"

"Whatever agreement our fathers had, I do not know. All I know is that I was brought here most unwillingly, and now I am not being allowed to return home, if even for a little while."

"You had to have agreed to it yourself. Elven marriages are not forced!"

"I married you out of love for my father."

"Then you should hold to the trust that your father knows best. He passed you into my care. You are my responsibility now."

"Is it truly me you worry for, my lord, or is it simply the fact that I am female, that distresses you so?"

He sneered. "Don't be ridiculous, Nevethiriel. I, as well as anyone here, know your capabilities…"

"It is a royal decree, then?" she interrupted, a scathing glare cutting across her usually pretty face. "The Prince of Thalmas Galen speaks and I, as the expected submissive bride, must obey."

Legolas pulled back as if he had been slapped, but it didn't take long for him to recover. "I have _never_ used that as a judgment for anything that I do, and you know it."

"Do your people know that all must be silent as soon as your mouth opens? Hush! The Prince of Mirkwood speaks!"

His face reddened in humiliation, and he could feel the heat emanating from his skin underneath his princely attire. The entire hall was watching in silent suspension as the argument between their lord and his newlywed bride erupted. He knew many of them were probably scandalized at the way she addressed him, but Lord Elrond's youngest daughter had never been one for ceremony or protocol. She was completely out of her place as Princess of the Wood, and even more so as a female of the Court. And the slur on the name of his home that had been made popular by the humans did not go unnoticed.

"That is enough!" he hissed warningly. "You are out of line."

"Out of line?" she asked incredulously. "Forgive me, my lord, for it was never my intention to be 'out of line,' as you so put it. How can I ever make it up to you?" she finished, her sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Please return to your chambers, Nevethiriel." He leveled his piercing blue eyes on her.

"I most certainly will not," she snapped, her lips curling into a snarl.

Legolas remained silent for a moment, his anger evident in the fiery flash of his eyes and the rigid stance of his lithe Elven body. His jaw was tightly set and his brow was furrowed. He appeared absolutely livid. His superior height and strength seemed not to frighten the slender elleth before him, as she held her own ground against his intimidating figure. It was obvious to any watching that the Prince was not one to be toyed with or crossed.

"I will not ask you again," he growled lowly, gripping her arm none too gently and pulling her towards the door of the hall.

"Unhand me," she retorted harshly, sending daggers with her eyes. When he did not do as asked, she continued. "Remove your hand from my arm, my lord. Now."

Slowly, Legolas complied, keeping his anger in check as his position mandated. Barely containing the fury in his voice, he whispered so that only she could hear. "As my wife, you are the Princess of this realm. You have responsibilities now. Please see that they are attended to without embarrassing the both of us any further."

Coldly, she replied, "I do not recall entering into any such union with you. Our marriage, though true and binding through ceremony, has not yet been consummated. Your statement, just as our marriage, is invalid."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at this, the barb hitting its mark. "Whose fault do you suppose that is? It was not _I_ being frigid and loathsome on our wedding night."

He did not react quickly enough to the blur of movement coming towards him, and the next thing he knew, there was a raw, stinging sensation across his cheek. He brought his hand up to his face to cover the tingling flesh, a look of utter shock on his handsome features. The silence in the hall was suddenly deafening, but it didn't last long.

"You are positively vile." With that, she turned on her heel and made her way to the hall entrance.

Panic gripped him momentarily, and he feared that his life was continuing to spiral violently out of control. His biting comment was immediately regretted, and he took a step as if to follow her, but decided against it, knowing she would need time to calm down. He had meant only to embarrass her as she had done to him, not to hurt her so deeply that her hate for him was made permanent. Suddenly, he felt cruel and callous, and he berated himself for stooping so low in his efforts.

Legolas ran his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath. Whispers had begun to spread through the hall like wildfire, and the sound grated on his nerves. He glanced up to see his father standing near his usual seat, a stern, disapproving look on his face. However, the King appeared to be deep in thought, so Legolas said nothing as he took his leave. It wasn't completely unintentional when the door slammed loudly behind him. Thranduil stared after his son, his thoughts taking on the same direction they had for the past several months.

Nevethiriel had been a spitfire ever since they had met. Not knowing who the other was, both had been rather impertinent upon first meeting. When Legolas had expressed his interest, Nevethiriel had coolly shot him down, claiming his overly developed sense of self-confidence and rather chauvinistic way of thinking was incredibly irritating. Accustomed to the stricter mannerisms and highly formal society of his own wood, Legolas had felt slighted and rather bothered by her spite and limitless independence and nonconformity. It had come as an outrageous surprise to both of them when their fathers had suggested a somewhat advantageous union between the two of them, hinting at better sociopolitical relations. Feeling as if she owed it to her father, Nevethiriel had agreed to attempt a relationship with the arrogant Elf Prince. Certainly, Legolas only conceded because he wished to please his own parent. But Nevethiriel and Legolas continued to clash, their stubborn and strong-willed personalities keeping them from compromise. When the wedding finally came about, neither would admit to the whole set-up being a mistake. Instead, they had essentially doomed themselves to a loveless marriage for the rest of eternity. Nevethiriel had refused to allow Legolas to so much as touch her on their wedding night, and thus, the bond remained invalid but inescapable.

Having her in the Wood hadn't turned out quite so well, either. She was simply used to the independence and freedom allowed her in Rivendell. Tradition was less stringent, and little depended on decorum or custom, as it did in the Wood. Each person had a place, and as such, was expected to remain in his or her place unless otherwise asked. The more reserved society of Thalmas Galen favored a structured, male-dominated culture. Etiquette and protocol were specific and expected at all times and under all circumstances. Nevethiriel, of course, resented the oppression and expectations of decorous society, and yearned to return to her home. In turn, Legolas took exception to her disregard for the rules of his realm and the blasé manner in which she treated her duties. She had unashamedly insulted many an Elf with her sharp tongue. At times, it seemed like the two of them were constantly at each other's throats.

Thranduil and Elrond had hoped that the antagonism between the two would eventually fade and be replaced with kinder feelings. As of yet, nothing looked promising. It was uncharacteristic for Legolas to loose his temper so easily, especially with one of the fairer sex. He had been raised to show any woman the utmost respect, but something about Nevethiriel set him off like Thranduil had never seen. And the gall of her to call his son arrogant and conceited…Legolas was anything but. His people loved and respected him, and for good reason. Legolas had a good heart, and he took his place as Crowned Prince devotedly.

How much would it take to make them realize that the other was not their enemy?

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	2. Homecoming

Disclaimer: I own nothing LOTR. It all belongs to Prof. Tolkien.

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Chapter 2: Homecoming

"Things look so different now."

Thranduil nodded at the young princess' observation. The trees seemed thinner now, as many had been destroyed in the fires of the battle that had only recently been won. Mirkwood had been forever changed, and it seemed like the darkness was slowly fading away. Animals inhabited the forest, birds sang in the morning without fear, and even the sky seemed a brighter blue than before. The War of the Ring had been far-reaching and epic in proportion. It made his heart glad to know that his family and people had emerged unscathed, for the most part. There had been losses, but not nearly as many as had been expected. The Wood was joyous once more, especially as it waited for the return of its Prince from the war.

The King noted with a smile Nevethiriel's impatience with Legolas' slow arrival. Though she had impressively and willingly buried herself in the survival of the Wood, it was clear that she worried for her husband, and her heart wrenched every time the news boded ill for the resistance against Mordor. But instead of wallowing in her despair, she had decided to aid in the fight from where she was, insisting she take Legolas' place in the ranks during his absence. With the aid of the Elves in Lothlorien, the armies of Mirkwood had rid themselves of Sauron's presence in their lands. She had proven to be a most formidable warrior, issuing commands and carrying out missions with the prowess of a hardened chief. Nevethiriel had certainly taken the Wood by surprise, but they had nonetheless welcomed her spirit and courage with open arms.

It was the first time in months Thranduil had seen the elleth in a dress, as billowing layers of clothing were not conducive to skirmishes with orcs. Her customary vambraces were gone, as well as her quiver full of Mirkwood's arrows. Instead, she was simply dressed in a light green day gown, her arms and shoulders bare to the warm kiss of the spring sun. Her auburn curls fell softly down her back, pleasantly contrasting with the silky material. The only evidence that remained of her participation in the war was a small cut above her right eye gained from a foolish move in her own footwork.

"It's a lovely day, Nevethiriel. You should be down there, outside the walls," Thranduil suggested, grabbing her concentration from the trees before her.

"I will wait," she insisted stubbornly. "It is early yet."

Thranduil watched as she leaned slightly over the wall, her eyes drifting over the people below. A sudden sound caught his attention, its familiarity sending jolts of fear through his veins. He turned his gaze towards the trees to see a dark, slender blur gliding through the air. His horror, however, dissipated as the arrow plunked harmlessly into the wall, just below where Nevethiriel had been leaning.

The young elleth gasped and jumped back before a look of confusion mingled with hope lit her eyes. The arrow was one of Mirkwood's. It was fletched with golden pheasant feathers and matching etchings. The sharp whistling of another arrow in flight caused her to look up just as it sunk into the wood next to the first. This one was of a Rivendell design, the blue fletching and silver patterns on the shaft easily identifying it. The only Elf in the Wood that possessed such arrows was Nevethiriel herself, and she had only given one away…

Her emerald eyes glanced up at the trees once more, realization dawning on her. She met Thranduil's gaze unwaveringly, before gently pushing past him and hurrying towards the stairs. Taking her skirts in one hand and the railing in the other, she rushed down the steps two at a time. Ignoring all ideals of protocol and restraint one of her position was to possess, she flew past the open gates and out onto the green. A riderless horse broke from the trees, and she squinted for any sign of its owner. Movement from behind the white steed drew her eyes and she focused in on a short, rotund man with a beard. What in all of Arda was a Dwarf doing in the Wood? But before she could think on it, her awareness was suddenly drawn by another's laughter. His golden hair caught the beams of sunlight perfectly, illuminating his tall Elvish figure, and from across the way, his keen blue eyes met hers, and her heart leaped in her chest.

"Legolas!"

Without so much as a look back at Thranduil or the shocked Elves behind her, Nevethiriel took off for the Elven Prince. Legolas dropped the lead he had on the horse and abandoned his guest. He only took but three long strides, and he swept her into his arms and whirled her about. Finally lowering her back down to the ground, he captured her lips in a sweet lingering kiss. Her arms wove tightly around his neck, and she clung to him as if her very life depended on it.

With a warm smile, he broke from her and rested his forehead against hers. "Neveth," he whispered, holding her tightly to him.

"I've missed you so much," she replied. "I was so worried about you. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I told you I would come back for you. I love you," he answered, his hands tenderly cradling her face.

She broke eye contact with him and gazed down at the ground, her cheeks flushing with color. "I love you, too."

"My heart sings to see you, meleth. You mean the world to me."

"Then kiss me again."

Legolas gave her a dazzling smile, more than willing to comply. He pressed his lips to hers, gloriously happy to have her by his side again. It didn't take much before he coaxed her lips apart and slid his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. She moaned heatedly into his touch and he tightened his hold on her hips. It had been seven months since he'd last been given the chance to be intimate with his wife, and his first instinct was to carry her off into the woods to ravish her for a week. It was his father's carefully timed clearing of his throat that broke them apart and reminded him of his duty to his people.

"Ada," he acknowledged the elder Elf with a bow of his head.

"It is good to see you again, ion nin," the King said, embracing his only child. "I think a celebration is in order." He paused to watch his son's reaction. "Tonight, perhaps?"

Legolas scowled. "Ada, no! I have only just arrived and…it would be unfair if I were exhausted from my journey and could not attend to my people."

Thranduil shot his son a knowing look. "Don't be ridiculous, Legolas. You have not been home nor seen your wife for seven months. Everyone in the Wood knows that neither of you will be doing much sleeping this evening."

Both Elves blushed furiously at that statement, and Nevethiriel moved to stifle her embarrassed laughter into Legolas' shoulder.

"Ada…I don't think…"

"Nonsense," the King stated. He leaned in and whispered in his son's ear. "I know you have missed her touch, and judging by the way she hurried out to meet you, she has missed yours as well. Go. Make love to your wife. The night is yours."

"Thank you, Ada."

Legolas took her hand, apologized to his Dwarfish friend after a quick introduction to his father, and then made hastily for his chambers, eager to get his wife to his bed, despite the fact that the sun was still high.

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	3. A Rose in the Library

Disclaimer: LOTR...amazing stuff...but not mine. Love it, though.

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Chapter 3: A Rose in the Library

Legolas cradled the rose gently in his hand, reveling in the smoothness of the petals that reminded him so vividly of the touch of her skin against his. Their relationship was still tentative at best, though much better than it had been the previous year. The hatred that had been so blatant was gone, as it had been replaced by a slow-blooming affection after the accident that had nearly cost them both their lives. They hadn't quite progressed into the territory of consummating their marriage yet, but Legolas felt that they were at least headed in the right direction.

He watched her from his place in the doorway. The snow outside had kept her indoors today, and she had retreated to the library to pass her time while Legolas was in conference with his father. Her pale lavender dress was spread out about the floor around her, covering her legs that were bent up underneath her. Slender hands carefully held the book she had chosen, as she sat before the fireplace to read. Green eyes were focused on the pages in concentration, framed by several strands of her auburn locks that had come free from their bindings. In his eyes, she had always been beautiful, regardless of her rather spiteful disposition. The fact that she now turned her eyes to him with something other than distaste and revulsion made his heart light.

Silently, he came up behind her and traced the edge of the rose against her cheek, taking her by surprise. She started at the touch, but quickly relaxed when she realized it was him. Turning, she glanced up at him questioningly and watched as he sat comfortably behind her. Legolas offered her the rose, and she smiled, taking it and slipping it into her hair near her ear.

"Thank you."

"I thought I'd find you here."

"It's not exactly ideal weather for taking a walk outside," she said, scowling. "We don't often see snow in Imladris."

"I imagine. But I do believe it has stopped snowing for now," he replied, gently brushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear. "You can still go for your walk."

"I'd rather finish my book then brave the wind," she responded, allowing him a glimpse of the cover of the tome.

"May I?" he asked, tentatively moving to wrap his arms around her waist and read over her shoulder.

Smiling, she nodded and leaned back into his embrace. Legolas set his chin to rest on her shoulder, keeping his arms where they were. The nearness and warmth of her small body comforted him, and all the world melted away, save for them. Despite the fact that they still had not truly bonded, Legolas was happier than he could ever remember. And now, the last rose in Mirkwood resided in the library, in the hair of the fairest elleth in all of Arda.

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	4. Training Field Flaws

whew...2 updates, 2 different stories...all in one day. i feel rather accomplished. enjoy!

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Disclaimer: If it looks familiar, it's probably not mine. I'm just borrowing.

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Chapter 4: Training Field Flaws 

Legolas watched as she sparred with Caranthir on the training field. He noted with satisfaction that their latest fight had left her with some pent up frustration as well. Despite Caranthir's prowess and many years in the guard, he was taking quite a beating, even if he didn't know it yet. In the time he had known Nevethiriel, he had pinned down her strategy. When it came to brute strength and power in a fight, she was lacking. But her speed and flexibility, combined with her natural athleticism and agile body surely made up for it. Her skill was obvious. She had been trained well. Slowly, she was wearing him down. While he wasted energy on flashy attacks and powerful strokes, she simply took the defensive, throwing in an uppercut of her own once and a while. Once she had him where she wanted, she stepped up her intensity, sent the blades flying from his grips and had him flat on his back, one knife resting easily against his throat, the other held high above her head in a death arch. Taken completely by surprise, Caranthir could do nothing but gracefully bow out and yield. The Elf had obviously underestimated her. But Legolas had been watching. He knew her weaknesses in battle. And he certainly planned to exploit them.

"Most impressive, my lady," he said, leaning up against the tree behind him. "Caranthir is one of Thalmas Galen's best warriors."

She took the bait. "Then you should tell Caranthir that he'd best not underestimate his enemies when he next enters into combat."

"I'm sure he's quite aware of that, Nevethiriel. Orcs aren't that entirely brilliant."

"Even orcs can learn from your mistakes," she snapped, brushing past him. "They're not as entirely stupid as you seem to think they are. Perhaps you could pick up some pointers from them."

"Are you suggesting that I need to take combative lessons from an orc, my lady?"

"I said nothing of you combative skills, my lord. It was your mental capacities of which I was speaking."

"Do you take me for a fool, Nevethiriel?" he hissed, closing in on her.

She merely quirked a brow and said nothing, not at all frightened by his impressive figure. Her arms crossed haughtily in front of her chest and she glared at him. "You are in the way, sir. If you would kindly move yourself…"

"Why don't you make me?" he demanded, almost cringing at the childishness in his tone.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" she replied, scowling. "I think not."

Legolas drew a single knife from its place on his back, giving it an appreciative look as it glinted in the sun. "Are you afraid that you might lose?"

"I fear nothing," she growled, clenching her fists at her side. "You, least of all."

"Then prove it."

Nevethiriel whipped her blades from their holsters, a snarl wiping away the false look of innocence that usually accompanied her more reserved self. Knowing that he would not make the first move, she lunged at him, taking a swing at his pretty head, wishing she could knock it off. Her first blade met solidly with his own as he blocked her move, before attacking from the other side with his second blade. She hadn't even seen him draw it. She parried and stepped back, giving herself some room so she could strategize and plan her next move. They circled each other a couple times, his stormy cerulean eyes boring into her emerald ones. With a speed that was nigh unstoppable, he assaulted her from the front, both his blades swinging towards her throat. Nevethiriel blocked them just in time, and pushed back, sending him off balance. Thoroughly incensed, she stepped up her aggression and sent a flurry of knife work his way. He stopped each stroke effortlessly, and whirled around, landing a smooth kick on her torso. With the wind knocked out of her for a moment, she struggled to breathe, while keeping a watchful eye on the loathsome Elf in front of her. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. She let loose with a kick of her own, which he dodged, but she was ready for his reaction. She switched both her knives to one hand and quickly came around. A carefully placed right hook caught him off guard and knocked him back a few steps.

It went on like that for quite a while. Neither wanted to give any ground or admit defeat. And with each stroke that he parried and each attack he made, Nevethiriel couldn't help but feel that he was holding back.

"If you're going to fight, then fight. Stop holding back because I'm female," she ground out.

"Insulted?" he asked, grinning wickedly as he countered her swing.

"Slightly."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not holding back. I'm merely observing your faults."

"My faults?" she asked, incredulous. She roughly elbowed him in the gut, releasing herself from the grip he had around her torso.

"Yes. For instance…when you bring your left blade around to block my stroke towards your head, you hold it up somewhat too high, leaving your whole chest open for attack."

Nevethiriel barely had time to bring her second blade around to protect her upper body. She grimaced when she realized he was right.

"And, your footwork is a little sloppy."

"Sloppy?"

"Your stance is too wide. Any powerful stroke from either side could make you lose your balance," he replied, demonstrating yet again, that he was correct.

With a scowl on her face, she inquired, "Anything else you'd care to point out?"

"Just one thing," he said.

Legolas thrust his blade forward, knocking her off balance again. In the split second it took her to regain her footing, Legolas kicked out, wrenching one knife from her hand. Driving his advantage, he pushed her back against a tree, quickly disarming her completely and resting his own blade against her slender neck. He made sure to press his entire body weight against her, keeping her one arm between their bodies, and the other pinned behind her back. With a wicked smile, he leaned closer to her so that his lips hovered next to her delicately pointed ear.

"I win."

Nevethiriel curled her lip into a sneer and looked away, noticing for the first time the crowd of Elves that had gathered to watch the skirmish at the training fields. Many, specifically those of Legolas' guard, looked rather smug at the lashing she'd taken. Others remained impassive and unreadable. Her cheeks colored furiously as he moved away from her, not even offering to pick up her fallen knives as he left her side. With a flourish, he whirled his blades back into their place, and with one last haughty grin in her direction, he returned to his regiment among pats on the back and congratulations.

She continued to glare in his direction for a short time, thoroughly humiliated at having her flaws pointed out and taken advantage of, especially in front of such a large crowd. And the fact that he had done so while not even at his full potential infuriated her further. Irate beyond belief, she holstered her knives and stormed off the training fields, Legolas' eyes following her every move. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his lips, but inside, he didn't feel nearly as victorious as he should have.

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kindly review? please? pretty please?

linilya elf


	5. The GreenEyed Monster

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! And as suggested, I will now be posting a rough date at the beginning of each chapter so it's not so confusing as to when it's taking place. Hope you enjoy!

P.S. - The first chapter takes place two or three months after Legolas and Nevethiriel's wedding. Chapter 2 obviously takes place after the War of the Ring with Legolas' homecoming. The third chapter is about a year and a half into their marriage, after the horribly rocky start to things, and still several years before the Fellowship. And finally, Chapter 4 is two or three months after their marriage. Sorry if there was any confusion about the time line. : )

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Disclaimer: Maybe if I wish hard enough and win the lottery, I could buy the Tolkien estate. Wouldn't that be cool?

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Chapter 5: The Green-Eyed Monster 

Estimated Date: About 7 or 8 months after their wedding. A few years before the Fellowship.

He watched her from across the room, dancing quite contently with one of his friends. Elerossë whirled her gracefully about the floor while others joined in the dance around them. Legolas scowled, a look most unbefitting for a prince. With his dark brows furrowed and a frown on his handsome face, he turned away and motioned to have his goblet refilled. Her laughter carried across the hall, and he couldn't help but spare another glance in her direction. A sharp pain seized his heart when he saw Elerossë lean in and whisper something in her ear, causing the faint blush on her cheeks to spread. His grip tightened on the cup in his hand, and he sighed in frustration.

She was _his_ wife. It should be _him_ dancing with her in front of every one. It should be _his_ words that caused her to blush and giggle when he whispered in her ear. Instead, he was standing off to the side while one of his childhood friends swept her off her feet. And Neverthiriel truly did not seem to mind, nor did she seem to care. Princess of Thalmas Galen, indeed. She certainly looked it, with her red curls freely cascading over her shoulders and green eyes sparkling with life. The elegantly wrought mithril circlet denoting her station sat atop her head, glinting with the flickering light of the fire, and her silvery green dress clung gently to her slender body.

He scowled again. There was no doubt in Legolas' mind that Nevethiriel had absolutely no intentions towards Elerossë, but the fact that she was so comfortable and at ease in his presence rubbed him the wrong way. One watching the two of them might assume that they were the wedded couple. Legolas couldn't help but feel the need to violently rip the two of them apart and take his place beside her. However, such jealous feelings were most inappropriate for an Elf, especially one of his station. Then again, her actions were also rather inappropriate, as she had not danced with _him_ all night.

Deciding to handle it in the most mature fashion he could, he straightened, placed his empty goblet on the table behind him, and strode purposefully across the room. Waiting until the end of the song, he smoothly moved to stand next to them and held out his hand to the lady.

"If I may, Elerossë, I would like to dance with my wife?" he asked, politely as he could muster.

Elerossë, very much unaware of the animosity that Legolas had previously been feeling, kindly smiled and bowed his head in respect. "Of course, my lord," he replied, offering Legolas her hand.

Nevethiriel didn't appear too thrilled, but she willingly, if not reluctantly, accepted his hand. For the first few moments of the dance, she remained silent, keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but on his face.

"Why do you hate me so?" he finally asked, breaking the monotony of the waltz.

"I don't hate you."

Legolas quirked a doubtful brow at this. "Really? I was quite sure that your anger stemmed directly from your hate for me."

"I hate no one, per say," she answered. "Passionate dislike would be a more appropriate term, I suppose."

"Passionate dislike?"

"Must you repeat everything I say?" she questioned, glaring at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that night.

"How _passionate_ is this dislike?" he asked, blatantly ignoring her jibe.

She shrugged nonchalantly as he twirled her about. "It burns with the intensity of a thousand suns over Harad."

Taken aback for a moment, Legolas said nothing. Finally regaining his fine motor skills, he replied, "And you don't consider that hate?"

"I believe that no one is honestly deserving of true hate."

"So there is hope for us yet," he quipped, sending her a dazzling smile, despite the frown and furrowed brow that dominated her features. "Dislike can be overcome. Even passionate dislike. I would be more worried if you truly hated me."

"Things can change."

"Indeed."

"Not always for the better," she added.

"Quite the pessimist, aren't we?"

"Only when in your presence, I assure you."

"Isn't this lovely?" he asked, his change of topic completely bewildering her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I believe we have just had our first decently civil conversation. Neither of us has started yelling yet," he pointed out.

Frowning yet again, she replied, "Well, don't expect it to last too long. I wouldn't want people thinking I'd lost my touch."

"Valar forbid that Thalmas Galen sees you act like a normal elleth enjoying herself."

"No one said I was enjoying myself."

"No one need say anything. It was quite obvious when you were dancing with Elerossë."

Nevethiriel immediately caught the implication and remained silent, assuming it would be best not to say anything. She could feel his cerulean eyes focused on her face, and her cheeks flushed under his intense scrutiny.

"Can we not try to have that, Nevethiriel? Can you, for one moment, forget your _passionate dislike_ for me and try to maintain a courteous relationship?"

Nevethiriel still said nothing, but looked up at him and met his gaze. The wistful smile on his lips and the depths of his eyes belied his sincerity. In light of her nonresponse, he tentatively pushed on.

"I certainly don't hate you, and after careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I truly couldn't dislike you, even if I were to try. You don't have to love me…that is not what I'm asking. I am simply asking that you try."

There was another moment of silence, before she replied. "I'm sorry, Legolas. But I don't want to try. I don't want this. I never wanted this."

Legolas stepped back and stopped dancing. For a moment, he almost looked hurt and vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he nodded slowly. He bowed stiffly and left her in the middle of the dance floor by herself.

Legolas was truly furious. Nothing set him off quite like Nevethiriel's rejections. Fuming, he made his way to the door. He'd tried. What more could he do? He'd put out his feelings for her to see, and she had obviously found him wanting. What made her think that this arrangement had been something that he had looked forward to? That it had been something that he had personally wanted? He was trying to make it easier for her, trying to make her happy. It wasn't as if it was a simple task for him. The possibility of being trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of eternity while his true match was still out there, searching for him was too much to handle.

And his father was certainly daft if he even thought for one moment that a child would come of this union. Nevethiriel hadn't even allowed the slightest bit of intimacy, even for show. Would he be forced to go through life without even taking a lover? Without the joy of being a father? Had she no thoughts for anyone but herself? He had half a mind to demand his husbandly rights, but such an act would weigh heavily on his mind. And her openly flirtatious behavior with Elerossë was almost too much to bear. It was as if she wished to flaunt her unattainable status before him by engaging in such behavior with his friend, of all people.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas realized that his open jealousy was a sign of his deepening emotions. The past several weeks had been a wake-up call for him. Despite his toils to keep himself distanced, he found himself more and more attracted to the fiery elleth. So he had finally admitted his feelings. The only problem that remained now, was her _passionate dislike_.

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Please review! 


	6. Never Again

Pardon the long delay. As some of you probably know, college is incredibly demanding. However, there are only two weeks left in the semester, so expect more frequent updating on both of my stories _Easier Said Than Done_ and _Remembering You and Me_. I can't say how unbelievably excited I am that summer is almost here. Yay me! Anywhoo...here's a little quick chappie that just randomly popped into my head. Hope you enjoy.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. As stated above, I am a college student. That means I'm poor and I own nothing but lint and a piece of paper stating that I owe money for school.

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Timeline: This chapter takes place 15-20 years after the War of the Ring. Legolas has taken a group of Elves and settled in Ithilien with Nevethiriel.Chapter 6: Never Again 

The hot Ithilien sun beat down, dappling the land through the branches of the trees. He had long since discarded his tunic because of the heat. Sweat trickled down his powerful chest, creating small rivulets that glittered in the afternoon sun. His long golden hair was tightly tied back into his customary braids, and his cornflower eyes sparkled in merriment. His bow and quiver lay forgotten against a thick tree trunk, along with his knives and another smaller bow. He was in a crouched position, facing his opponent in a make-shift sparring circle.

A younger Elf stood facing him, his appearance almost a mirror image of the older, more experienced warrior before him. To a human, the boy would have seemed to have been perhaps five or six. He still possessed a youthful, soft-featured face and dancing, mischievous eyes. But the boy was probably closer to fifteen or sixteen years old, and his mental and physical capabilities far outshone that of a human toddler.

However, he was not quite up to par with the older Elf. He sidestepped an assault from his left, but ended up on his back in the dirt when his legs were knocked from underneath him. The youngster wasn't about to give up, however, and he wrestled the warrior to the ground. Both of them tussled around for several moments before the larger of the two easily pinned the child to the ground.

"That's not fair, Ada," he complained. "You're twice my size."

"Size is no excuse, Aralith. You know that. Your mother is smaller than I, and she has pinned me down several times in a most efficient manner…"

"You and Naneth wrestle?"

The older Elf made a face, unsure of how to respond now that he'd possibly said too much about his nightly activities with the boy's mother. "Well…not exactly, _ion_."

No longer able to contain her laughter, she made her presence known in order to save her husband from his predicament. "Whatever are you teaching our son, Legolas?"

"Ada was teaching me to wrestle, Naneth!" the child broke in excitedly. He squirmed out of his father's hold and placed himself at her side, taking her hand in his smaller one and dragging her over to Legolas' side.

"I see," Nevethiriel said slowly, smiling at the ellon splayed out nonchalantly on the ground.

"Ada says you've pinned him down before even though you're smaller than he. How do you do it, Naneth?"

Color rushed to her cheeks, and Legolas at least had the decency to appear sheepish. She quirked a brow in amusement at her husband, before placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "I think I'll let your father answer that one, Aralith."

Expectantly, the adolescent turned to look at Legolas, his blue eyes wide and eager, ready to soak in whatever his parent had to teach him. Nevethiriel had to bite back the giggles that threatened to spill forth. Legolas looked far too much like a fish out of water when searching for the appropriate answer to give his young son.

"Well…you see, _ion_, your mother and I…we weren't truly wrestling…"

Aralith frowned. The next question that left his mouth was filled with the innocence only a child could possess. "Then what need would Naneth have to pin you down?"

Legolas grimaced. How was he supposed to go about explaining _that_ to his son? Glancing up at his wife, he noted the smug grin on her face with little amusement. He knew just the thing to get rid of that silly smirk. "Your Naneth likes being on top."

Nevethiriel's mouth dropped open in shock. "Legolas Thranduilion!"

"On top for what?" Aralith asked, now thoroughly confused. "I don't understand, Ada."

"You'll understand when you're older, Aralith," Legolas stated, patting the boy on the back. The Lord of Ithilien stood and brushed himself off, blatantly ignoring the irritability radiating from his wife's being.

"Why in Arda would you tell him that?" she hissed, taking her husband's arm and pulling him away.

"Because now he'll ask _you_ what I'm talking about, since he knows he won't get any more information from me. I'd like to see you try to enlighten him as to what you need me pinned down for."

"I am not explaining the reproductive process to my son while he is still a child!"

"Reproductive process?" Aralith questioned. "You don't have to explain that to me, Naneth. I already know about it."

At that, both parents turned and faced their child. "What?"

"Lord Armereth explained it to me yesterday while we were hunting. We came upon a doe and a stag rutting in the woods. I asked him what was happening, so he explained the mechanics of it to me – how the stag mounts the doe from behind to ensure that his line is continued." The child paused for a moment, taking in his father and mother's stunned looks. "I don't see how that has anything to do with Naneth pinning you down, Ada."

"Good," Legolas replied quickly. "Because there is no connection whatsoever."

"Why don't you go clean up, Aralith?" Nevethiriel said, finally changing the subject. "Dinner will be shortly and you need to be presentable."

"Yes, ma'am."

The young Elf took off toward the large oak where the family's talan was nestled in the thick branches, picking up his belongings as he went. Suddenly, he froze in his steps and turned back to look at his parents, eyes wide in disbelief. His cheeks turned a lovely shade of red as realization dawned on him. Thoroughly embarrassed and rather disgusted with this turn of events, Aralith remained only a pained moment longer, before hightailing it up the ladder to the talan.

Nevethiriel turned to her husband. "He never hunts with Armereth again."

"Agreed." There was a long pause before Legolas spoke again. "To be honest, Neveth, we weren't doing very much reproducing those times you did manage to pin me down."

Nevethiriel glared at him and cuffed him upside the head. "Never again."

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Tell me what you think!

linilya elf


	7. Insults and Emotions

A/N: here's a little something to keep you entertained while you patiently (or not so patiently) wait for the next chappie of Remembering You and Me, which should be up within the week. it's about half done right now, and i've been working on it. i want it to be a relatively substantial post, so you'll actually have something to read. so enjoy this little bit and tell me what you think...

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Timeline: Almost a year after marriage, still several years before the Fellowship 

Chapter 7: Insults and Emotions

The clanging of the iron door echoed loudly through the small stone room. Water could be heard somewhere, dripping faintly, but loudly enough that it would quickly drive one mad. There were no windows, only the solitary door that led in and out of the cell.

"This…was your brilliant plan?"

Legolas furrowed his brow at her and frowned. "My plan was going accordingly until you decided to open your mouth and let your acerbic tongue get us thrown in prison."

"Oh, so this is all my doing, is it?"

"Of course it is," Legolas scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "The people of Esgaroth would never arrest me. I've been here countless times without putting myself into such a predicament."

Nevethiriel sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. "If you're so popular here, why can't you convince them to let us go?"

"They are not likely to cool down for quite some time, judging by the Master's face and the fact that Men possess hot tempers," Legolas snarled. "You had no right to say such things. The Greenwood has maintained close ties with the people of Esgaroth for centuries, and you have likely severed relations with them in all of about five minutes."

"He was utterly rude to me," she countered.

Legolas gritted his teeth, biting back a sharp comment. "Men's customs are very different from our own, Nevethiriel. They do not allow their women to practice combat. He was simply noting your attire."

"He said I was dressed as a male and hardly appeared as the princess I am."

"Are you not dressed in riding boots, a tunic, and a pair of leggings? Do you not carry weapons with you? And I thought you didn't wish people to know of your marriage to me."

Nevethiriel huffed in her corner of the cell. "Regardless of my marriage to you, I expect to be treated with respect."

"Respect is only given to those who have earned and deserve it, my Lady."

She said nothing to refute his claim, knowing that he was correct. Placing her chin on her knees, she stared glumly out the barred iron door.

"Now what?"

"We wait," Legolas insisted. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable. I believe we'll be spending the night here."

* * *

Nevethiriel shivered in the dampness of the cell, rubbing her hands absently over the sleeves of her tunic. As one of the Firstborn, she was not usually affected by such things as the cold, but the fact that she was cramped into a tiny stone room without the presence of the sun had slightly weakened her defenses. Not to mention, she assumed that the small amount of human blood she had received from her father's side of the family had given her several of their weaknesses, among them feeling the effects of nature and sleeping with her eyes closed. She pulled her knees closer to her body, trying to ward off the cold that was seeping into the room. Darkness ensconced her, with only a dim light from a torch down the corridor illuminating the cell. She glanced surreptitiously at her companion and found that he was leaning against the far wall, legs stretched out before him, and his head resting on the stone behind him. Moodily, she turned back to pitying herself for letting her sharp tongue get them into this mess.

"Are you cold?"

His soft voice broke into her thoughts and she turned back to him. "Pardon?"

"I asked if you were cold."

"No."

Legolas observed her for a moment. He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. "Why do you lie? It is obvious that you are chilled. You're shivering."

"If it is so obvious, why did you ask in the first place?"

"Perhaps because I am concerned about you," he replied after a short moment of silence. He cringed after the statement left his mouth, knowing he'd regret it in a few short minutes.

It had only been a little over two months since he had admitted his growing affection for her at the celebration of the summer equinox. She had blatantly refused him and his tentative advance based on the reason of her _passionate dislike_. Nevethiriel had avoided him more so than before after that night, perhaps wishing not to give him any reason to further his emotions.

"Why would you be concerned about me after the things I've done and said to you and your people?"

Legolas was briefly astounded by the sincerity in her voice. If he had better control of his own tongue, he would have said something more along the lines of what he was thinking than what escaped his lips. "Whether either of us likes it or not, you are my wife. It is my responsibility to look after you."

Nevethiriel was surprised to find herself stung by his unfeeling words, though she knew she probably deserved them. After all, it had been she who had denied him so harshly. Perhaps she had finally driven him away far enough. "I believe I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you."

A heavy moment of uncomfortable silence hung between the two of them. Neither moved or spoke. There was no need to. Enough had been said as it was.

Nevethiriel shivered again and curled herself back into the corner as far as she could, attempting to hold on to some semblance of warmth. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the cold stone wall behind her. A soft touch on her shoulder startled her and she snapped to attention. Legolas slid to rest beside her and gently pulled her into his arms, offering his body to warm her. For a moment, Nevethiriel considered struggling, even pushing him away. But the warmth he provided was inviting and there was little she could do to resist. His scent assailed her, reminding her of a mix of cinnamon and the forest after a gentle, cleansing rain. The feel of his strong arms around her in something other than an offensive battle move was a new sensation – one that she wasn't entirely sure she was quite so fond of. Then again, being so near to him was also a new experience, and it seemed to send her senses whirling. She didn't have much time to think on either situation or to remind herself of her disgust for him, as the newfound comfort and warmth had her slipping into an exhausted sleep.

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Her neck was sore when she finally awoke. Fluttering her eyes open, she was met with the solid form of a green-clad shoulder. After discovering that the shoulder was indeed attached to whom she had thought it was, she forcefully shoved him away from her.

"What in all of Arda do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"You were cold. Do you not remember?" he asked, groggily.

Nevethiriel paused for a moment. "Of course I remember," she said, before spitefully tossing his words back at him. "You were simply taking care of your obligation, I suppose."

Legolas frowned thoughtfully. "Yes. I suppose that's exactly what I was doing."

"Are you going to get us out of here today? Or do you think they need more time to forgive and forget?"

"If you had been awake nearly an hour ago, you would know that the guard has already come by and unlocked the door."

Nevethiriel fumed. "You did not care to wake me?"

"I should have left you here," Legolas quipped, rising from his position on the floor. "It would have better suited my purposes. But perhaps then the rift between the Greenwood and Esgaroth would remain permanent."

Nevethiriel wasn't entirely sure how she managed, but she refrained from throttling him on the spot. "You're insufferable."

"So you've said countless times," he replied, swinging the door open and motioning for her to leave the cell. "Ladies first."

She snorted at him in response, in a most unladylike way. She had half a mind to close the iron door behind her, but she knew that she would then be in trouble in Thranduil's court – and she had just gotten out of her last dilemma there. Nevethiriel was sure if Legolas didn't disown her first, Thranduil certainly would.

"I apologize again, Master Duilin, for my wife's comments yesterday. She was out of sorts."

Nevethiriel stood impatiently behind him, her arms crossed over her chest as Legolas made what she felt were needless apologies to the Master of the town of Esgaroth. Out of sorts indeed. He had insisted that they express regret before leaving, and that she remain silent until she made her contrition, unless she wished to be marched straight back to their lovely cell.

"Think not on it again, Prince Legolas. I fear I let my temper get the best of me. I must apologize for my rash treatment of you and your lady," the man replied, running his fingers through his sandy blond hair.

Legolas offered the man a slight bow of his head out of respect, motioning for her to come forward as he did so. "Nevethiriel…"

"I apologize, my Lord. My actions were uncalled for." She lowered her chin, though she had to refrain from making a sour face at the man.

"As were mine, I assure you."

She bit back a retort and forced a smile, then quickly looked away as Legolas diplomatically inserted himself back into the conversation. It was obvious that he had centuries of training in politics and princely behaviors. She was almost jealous of his tact and subtly – almost. Nevethiriel busied herself with gazing about the town, her sights focusing in on a group of men lining the road they were to take out of town. One of them raked his eyes over her in a rather suggestive manner, and she frowned. Men were utterly repulsive.

It wasn't until Legolas lightly gripped her arm to lead her away that she managed to draw her attention from the disgusting man.

"Are all men so ridiculously lewd?" she questioned.

"What?" Legolas glanced at her in shock.

"That poor excuse for a man over there has been eyeing me up and down since we've been out here." She pointed in the general direction of the road.

Legolas glared at her. "I hope you're not trying to cause trouble, Nevethiriel. I do not feel like cleaning up any more of your messes."

"I'm not lying, Legolas. Can you not see it for yourself?"

He turned his eyes towards the street and they easily fell on the man she had mentioned. Indeed, he was staring at the elleth quite rudely and a little too lustfully for his liking. Legolas frowned, but did nothing other than attempt to lead her down the road.

"Not all Men are as such. But many of them are weak, and are easily seduced by a mere glance, or by the suggestion of power."

Bawdy laughter broke into their conversation as they passed, and Nevethiriel felt no reason to repress her glare.

"What a fiery spirit you have for a wife, my Lord," one of the men said in passing. "I haven't seen anyone speak to the Master in that manner in years."

"However do you manage to tame her?" another asked, his question full of meaning.

Legolas was already tiring of their antics. "I do not tame her."

Though it was not the answer they had expected, it was apparently humorous to them as the laughter started again. Legolas frowned, but said nothing more.

"You must lay her out on her back once and a while…just to get rid of some of that energy. Or perhaps you don't need to. Maybe she gets around enough. It's hard to tell with you Elven folk, always merrymaking about in the forest."

If Nevethiriel was angry, then Legolas was furious. She had seen Legolas upset many times. But usually his anger was directed at her. Never before had she seen him so livid with anyone else. His jaw was tightly set and his blue eyes flashed dangerously at the small group of men. In a matter of seconds, his whole body had gone from its normal, relaxed posture to a tense mass of muscle and strength. He was the epitome of Elven rage – dangerously beautiful and just as lethal. The cool ruthlessness of the warrior he'd been raised as emanated from him in waves, frightening even her for a moment.

"You dare to insult my wife's virtue?" he snarled, his lip curling up in distaste.

"N-n-no, sir. Not at all. I don't know what I was thinking. It was a slip of the tongue, I swear it." The man fumbled for his words, backing away from the enraged Elf carefully, as if not to further upset him.

"Good," Legolas hissed. "Otherwise, I fear that your Master would have had to place me under arrest again." Turning to the other man that Nevethiriel had pointed out earlier, he said, "And_ you_ had best keep your eyes to yourself next time, else you find yourself without them."

"Yes, my Lord."

Nevethiriel, forgetting her previous anger at the men's vulgarity, could hardly contain her laughter at the nervousness of the men before her. Legolas could be incredibly frightful when he intended to be, and she couldn't help but notice how attractive it made him appear. Shoving her thoughts aside, she threw the group of mortals one last glare before taking Legolas' arm and guiding him away before he _did_ kill someone.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

Legolas frowned at her and stopped their forward motion. He took her hands in his and met her eyes. "Perhaps we are not bound and you are not truly my wife, but I will not stand for anyone assailing your honor, nor will I have them treat you as if you are anything less than what you are."

She had nothing to say to that, besides offering her sincere thanks. She would have berated the man herself, given the chance, but watching Legolas take control of the situation had been more attractive than she'd imagined.

The tension that had been between them the entirety of the trip seemed to fade slightly, and it was a moment before either of them spoke. Legolas was the first to break the silence.

"I do not consider looking out for you an obligation, Nevethiriel. You know this."

"Please, don't start that again, Legolas…"

"My feelings for you cannot simply be turned off, Nevethiriel. I care for you. More strongly than I first believed."

"I know not what to tell you, Legolas, for I cannot simply show you feelings that do not exist."

"Then I will wait."

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review? please? 


	8. Dorwinion

Author's Note: Oh boy. What has it been? Over two years? I AM SO SORRY! Unfortunately, real life took over for quite some time and I lost the urge and the time to write. Good news though...I have graduated with my Masters AND gotten married! :-) I am super excited about that, and I have been spending a lot of time just getting settled in. We just bought a new house and we have been doing a lot of work on that, so I have been super busy. Also, I had writer's block for quite some time, and eventually lost my password to log on to this silly site. And then, I accidentally deleted the email account I had registered for this site. Haha. Good work, right? Other than that, I have no real excuse. But I have recently found the time and motivation to start writing again. So fear not! I DO plan to continue both this and "Remembering You and Me" until they are complete. I apologize for the incredibly long wait this has been. But hopefully, this chapter makes up for it! For those of you who actually read this, thank you for sticking with me, adding me to your favorites, urging me on with PMs and reviews, and all that you have done! Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 8: Dorwinion

He could feel her eyes on him, but he dared not turn to meet her intense gaze. The firelight flickered tantalizingly through the large clearing, illuminating the glen for the Elves and their gathering. Music poured from the stringed instruments and woodwinds lovingly played by their owners. It seemed the glade was alive with the sound of it, bending and twisting through the night forest. Many Elves danced in the flickering light, while others mingled nearer to the trees. Wine was flowing freely and all partook in the drinking and making merry.

Legolas was moving through a quickly-paced dance, his feet nimbly keeping time with the lively melody of the song. To any casual observer, he seemed just another participant in the festivities. His long flaxen hair was only partially pulled back, no longer tied in the warrior braids that commonly adorned his head. He, as the majority of the ellyn in attendance, had discarded his silver-blue shirt when the dancing had started, so that his sinewy archer's build was visible for all to see. Subtle muscle rippled with each of his movements, drawing the gazes of many of the unattached females. His cornflower eyes sparkled with merriment and laughter as he deftly stepped and pranced his way through the dance. He traded partners with one of his friends from the guard, bowing low and flashing the elleth a dazzling smile before whirling her about around the fire.

Nevethiriel leaned casually against an ancient oak that stood on the edge of the clearing, watching on in interest. Legolas had insisted that she attend the circle with him, and she had reluctantly agreed. She'd refused to dance, however, and so he had been drawn into the festivities without her. He did return occasionally to repeat his offer in efforts to keep her from feeling left out. But she maintained that she would rather not attempt to frolic so foolishly around a fire in the middle of the woods. So she watched him instead, feeling for the first time what he had felt when she had blatantly aroused his jealousy all those months ago by dancing with Elerossë. The emotion bubbled up inside her, surprising her in its intensity, and she suddenly felt ashamed for the many things she had done to ensure Legolas' envy and anger.

They had, however, grown closer over the last several weeks, especially after she had gotten them in enough trouble to last them several human lifetimes. She had inadvertently put the both of them into a precarious situation, and Legolas had laid his own life on the line to protect her when he could have just as easily left her to her own devices and been rid of her and her foul disposition once and for all. For that, she found she was eternally grateful. And she had decided that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to learn exactly who it was she had married. His selfless sacrifice had thrown many things into sharp relief, including the growing attraction she had been fighting so viciously against. She had come to recognize that being married to Legolas may not have been the curse she had previously believed it to be – and it was possible that something more could come of their relationship if she could simply learn to get along with him.

"You seem deep in thought, my Lady."

She startled from her contemplation when he spoke to her, and she realized for the first time that he was standing before her. Fighting back that glare that had come naturally all the months prior, she instead offered him a weak smile and a nod.

"Do you wish to leave?" he asked, not for the first time that night.

"No," she replied softly, shaking her head. She watched the dancing Elves for a moment longer, before turning to him and saying, "Teach me."

Legolas furrowed his dark brow in momentary confusion. But comprehension dawned on him a moment later and he gave her a genuine smile. He held out his hand for her, saying, "Of course."

Nevethiriel followed him towards the fire in the center of the clearing. Her nerve wavered for a moment, and she pulled him to a stop not sure of whether she should continue on. It seemed so strange that a society that appeared as stifling as that of the politically correct Thalmas Galan participated in such merry making. And though she often grew weary of the overwhelming differences between Imladris and the Greenwood, she was hesitant to take the one chance she was offered to simply let loose and return to her impractical leanings. She had been so bent on being miserable in her new home that perhaps she was afraid she would _actually_ enjoy it.

Legolas eyed her curiously, watching the emotions war on her face. Knowing not what to say, or even if he should say anything at all, he simply stood by her waiting for her to make up her mind. He spotted an Elf winding through the crowd with a decanter and several fresh glasses of wine, and he waved him over. The prince snagged a glass for himself, savoring the heady rush that ran through him with the rich fruity taste. His interest was piqued and he quirked a brow when Nevethiriel took a glass for herself. To his knowledge, she had not touched any of the Wood's wine since her arrival, and she certainly hadn't been drinking anything this evening other than water. The strong Dorwinion vintage she had chosen would probably not sit well with her nearly empty stomach, but he said nothing as she quickly finished her glass, obviously looking for a little liquid courage.

Cheeks flushed and nerves steeled, she urged him forward. "All right. Can't be too difficult, can it?"

"No," he assured her. "We will start off with something simple. Keep in mind this is nothing like what you would expect from a formal function. No one will notice any mistakes. Just listen to the music."

* * *

The steps Legolas had presented her with at first had not been too complicated to pick up, though she was unsure of herself the first few times through the chorus. It was easy enough to follow him through the twists and turns of the dance without bumping into other couples or getting too close to the warmth of the fire. But as they continued on, the steps became more complex.

Noticing the sour look cross her face once or twice, Legolas offered, "Would you like to sit?"

"I think I would prefer another glass of wine," she stated. "It seems to help my dancing abilities."

"You enjoy the Dorwinion?"

"It has a different taste to it," she mused, allowing him to lead her toward one of the serving tables and fill a glass for her.

"Ada prefers it as well. I favor a lighter wine, though I must say there is something attractive about that vintage." He paused to watch her finish her glass yet again before offering a warning. "I also admit that it can be quite strong if not accustomed to such spirits."

"Are you suggesting I slow down?" she asked, quirking a brow.

"I am merely stating a fact. You may do with that as you wish, my Lady."

Nevethiriel easily picked up on his teasing tone. "You don't think I can handle a few glasses of wine, my Lord?"

"Any ordinary wine, perhaps. Dorwinion is another story entirely. Not all of its effects are fast-acting. It will begin its work several hours from now, but by that time I venture to say it would be too late."

"We will see," she intoned, refilling her glass and sipping at it slowly.

Legolas smiled and offered his hand. "Another dance, my Lady? If you are able…"

Enjoying the playful banter, the princess scoffed and placed her half finished glass at her spot at the table where they had dined. "I am more than able."

* * *

Nevethiriel could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. But that was not so worrying as the lightheadedness that had overtaken her. It was not sickening, but rather, almost pleasant as it tingled through her body. Her inhibitions had slowly faded, and Legolas had turned her loose to dance with several of the other ellyn present. Strangely enough, she _was_ having a good time. A grand time, in fact. For the first time in months, Nevethiriel felt content. And bubbly. Bubbly? Perhaps that was the wine.

She had had several glasses since Legolas' warning earlier in the evening. Unfortunately, that hadn't seemed to work entirely in her favor when it came to executing dance steps properly, but her partners hadn't seemed to mind, Legolas least of all. When her current partner turned her back to her husband, she nearly fell into his chest, but managed to right herself at the last moment. The princess giggled uncharacteristically, though her smile was genuine.

"Are we having a good time?" Legolas asked, leading her around the fire once again.

"Indeed! Who could have possibly known that Wood Elves aren't as stuffy as everyone makes them out to be?"

The prince snorted indignantly. Apparently, the wine had no effect on her sharp tongue. However, it was most obviously having an effect. Her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink and her eyes were wide, the fire reflecting merrily in the green orbs. Though she was putting forth an excellent effort to keep her feet moving in time with the rhythm of the music, her steps were slightly off-balance and wobbly. Nevethiriel, Princess of Thalmas Galan, was drunk.

"How much wine have you had?" he inquired, leaning in with a smile.

"Enough," she quipped, poking him in the nose with her finger to push him away. "Six glasses at least…" She paused, distracted by his face. "You have lovely cheekbones. Did you know?"

Legolas grinned, wondering if she would have had the courage to tell him so without the aid of the Dorwinion wine. "I am glad you find them so, my Lady."

Nevethiriel blushed further, if that was at all possible. She wasn't exactly sure where that statement had come from or why it had so freely flowed from her mouth. It seemed as if she had no control over which of her thoughts to voice. And it was frightening to her how attractive Legolas had become in such a short amount of time.

That wasn't to say that she normally found Legolas repulsive. Just the opposite, in fact. In her desperate attempt to hate all that Thalmas Galan was, she had buried any thought of attraction to the regal prince. But now that the wine had eliminated the restraints she maintained on her feelings and thoughts, her submerged attraction to the handsome warrior was making itself known.

Suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed with her drunken enlightenment, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His skin felt cool against her burning face. Strands of his golden hair mixed with her red tresses, and for a moment, she was mesmerized. But just then, butterflies roared to life in the pit of her stomach and she was unsure if the queasy feeling was a result of the wine or of his body being so close. Either way, she relished in the new sensation. Nevethiriel's small hands pressed against his chest, pushing him away from her ever so slightly. His subconscious move to wrap his arms around her waist did not go unnoticed.

"Legolas…" she started, her voice wavering.

He stared at her, his cobalt eyes meeting hers. "Yes?"

"I…" she paused, trying to draw her thoughts together. "I…am drunk."

A small smile crept across his face. "I am aware."

She frowned petulantly. "You cannot take advantage of me. I will not allow it."

"It was never my intention, my Lady," he assured her. "Though I must admit I find your candor quite charming. Particularly handsome, eh?"

Nevethiriel snorted, before being overtaken by a round of hiccups. "Hush. I am sure it is quite endearing. I assure you, this has never happened before."

Legolas nodded fervently, still grinning like he was privy to a secret no one else knew. "Of course not."

Glaring, she ignored the bait and continued. "Perhaps you should take me back to my chambers so that I may avoid any future embarrassment."

"Perhaps you should have stopped enjoying the Dorwinion when I recommended it to you, so you could walk there yourself…"

"Be quiet," she bristled, rubbing her forehead in consternation.

Legolas laughed. "I would be happy to walk you back," he whispered. "I am glad you were finally able to enjoy yourself in my home. Though I hope next time it doesn't take six glasses of Dorwinion to allow it."

The princess nodded, the quick motion of her head sending her senses reeling. The world spun, and she latched onto him to remain upright. "I think…I will sleep in tomorrow morning."

"I think you will not see the morning, and still feel like death when you wake in the afternoon," Legolas intoned, looping his arm through hers and beginning the walk back toward the gates.

"Why would you let me drink so much?" she whined.

"You wouldn't have listened. I figured it was best to let you find out for yourself. You won't do it again, I'm sure."

"You are a horrible person." Her foot caught on a root and she just about went sprawling to the ground, but Legolas' quick reflexes thankfully saved her the experience.

"Oh, indeed," he agreed. "Quite horrible."

Nevethiriel's thoughts raced, and she found she needed to stop walking in order to compose herself. _No more Dorwinion for you, Nevethiriel_, she swore to herself. _Ever._ As much as she reprimanded herself, however, there was no doubt in her mind this would probably happen again. Strangely enough, she found that it brought certain things to light. Like the situation with the Elf in front of her.

Legolas stared at her, clearly concerned that she was feeling ill. Moonlight streamed through the branches of the forest, illuminating his skin and making his hair appear almost silver. His hand gripped hers reassuringly, in case she was to waver. He had left his tunic back at the circle, probably intending to return once she was safely inside. Her eyes took him in before quickly darting to the ground. He was truly striking.

"Legolas…I…" she trailed off, losing her nerve.

He frowned slightly and urged her to start walking again. "It's best we get you into bed. It won't be long and you won't be feeling well at all."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" she questioned, following after him unsteadily.

"Yes," he answered briefly. "I remember my first few glasses of Dorwinion. Unfortunately. I would rather forget."

"I wouldn't," she said after a moment. "I think I have learned some very important things tonight."

"Have you?"

"Indeed. I have learned that Wood Elves are quite the merrymakers. I have learned several new dances I am sure they would be _thrilled_ to learn in Imladris. And I have learned how much wine _not_ to drink ever again, as I don't hold my liquor half as well as I thought I did."

Legolas smiled. "These are all good lessons."

"And…you are not as horrible as I have often made you out to be."

"No?" he questioned, slightly surprised.

"No," she replied softly. "I was wrong to think so. I think, at the very least, we would make very good friends. We are more alike than I would care to believe. And I am far more attracted to you than I first thought."

The words spilled out before she had a chance to stop them. She clapped her hand over her mouth and color rushed to her cheeks yet again.

Legolas quirked a brow. Inside, his heart leapt. But his head warned against getting his hopes up. She was drunk, after all. He allowed himself a brief smile.

"Well, this is an interesting development," he finally intoned. "But perhaps we should see how clearly you are thinking on this tomorrow after you've dispelled yourself of the pounding headache you will have."

She grimaced. "Stop reminding me."

"Perhaps I shall wake you early in the morning for breakfast."

"Perhaps I will knock your face so hard with my fist that you will be unable to attend breakfast," she teased, easily falling into the banter with him.

"I doubt it," he countered. "You would hardly be able to aim in your state."

"Regardless," she stated, getting the last surge of courage she was sure to feel for the night. "I have meant every word I said tonight, whether I intended to say it out loud or otherwise."

"I will keep that in mind," he replied.

"I want to try, Legolas. I want to try…_us_."

* * *

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's not too incredibly long, but I felt it was decent enough length. Let me know what you thought! It's been so long...I would be glad to hear from you guys again! Please review! :-)


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